


Sticky Situation

by HYPERFocused



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Candy, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Multi, Puns & Word Play, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At least it wasn't dancing hamsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticky Situation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Soft and Fluffy](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/70665) by http://canadian-snoopy.livejournal.com/. 



> Written 9/14/2005. Remix of [](http://canadian-snoopy.livejournal.com/profile)[**canadian_snoopy**](http://canadian-snoopy.livejournal.com/)'s delicious crackfic [Soft and Fluffy](http://www.livejournal.com/community/sga_flashfic/48744.html).

Sometimes Rodney thought that only an Infinite Improbability Drive could explain some of their stranger missions, not to mention how they got out of trouble in such a variety of ways. But as much as he dreamt of Kavanaugh turning into a bowl of Petunias -- hey, at least he'd give off useful oxygen --, he could find no actual proof of this. It was too bad, because Rodney could sure use the third hand, and extra head. He'd get a lot more done.

Until now.

Because really, what other explanation could there be for what they were seeing?. True, the MALP sometimes gave a somewhat distorted view, but there was no mistaking what they all were seeing.

They were on a mission to Candyland. Or maybe it was Wonkaville. Rodney didn't _see_ anyone who looked like Johnny Depp in Goth makeup, but for all he knew, he was there.

The roly-poly, fluffy looking natives seemed friendly and welcoming, which was great. They looked like the least threatening aliens in the Pegasus galaxy, and Rodney relaxed at the sight of them. After their last several off-world jaunts had been boring and uneventful, he'd assumed they were due for some excitement - which usually meant the threat of certain death, or at least extreme inconvenience.

He was pleasantly surprised to find this wasn't the case on Bor'n'Justia.

"Though I have never met them, I do not think we should be concerned. From what I have heard, you will find no problems with the Peigh'eps," Teyla had informed them, as they were getting ready for the mission. "They're a sweet, somewhat shy civilization, sticking close together in bands. Very big on celebration and holidays, but when it's not a time for merry-making, they tend to keep to themselves.

"They rarely travel to other worlds, as too much exposure to atmospheres outside their own protected home is unhealthy for them. It makes their bodies stiffen, and can even kill them. "

So they hadn't expected the threat. Who could? Teyla had only mentioned small, adorable happy people - like the ones the MALP had shown them, he'd assumed. Not _this_.

Rodney craned his neck up even as he ran, Tall as a building, loud as that Van Halen concert Rodney's college roommate had dragged him to Freshman year, the creature's resemblance to that giant marshmallow guy from Ghostbusters was unmistakable. Apparently they were all going to die a sticky, squishy death. To make matters even worse, Rodney didn't see Sigourney Weaver _anywhere._

 

"Sir--" Ford said, voice sounding a little panicked and a lot, well, amused. Rodney couldn't blame him. He was completely out of his element.

"I see it, Ford," John readied his weapon, pointlessly, Rodney thought. A small metal projectile would have as much affect in this monstrosity, as a marshmallow gun would have on a man. More likely, it would just piss the creature off. He had to say something.

"You don't think--" Rodney started to say, though he didn't know how to finish. What could they do? Get some really big chocolate bars, some tree branches, and Atlantis' entire supply of 'not-quite-graham' crackers?

"McKay, perhaps we should hold this conversation back at Atlantis?" The Major suggested, giving up the idea of shooting the creature in favor of pulling their stuff together for a hasty retreat. "I don't wanna be in the way when that... _thing_ spots us."

Of course John being John, and Rodney being the unluckiest man in the Pegasus galaxy, it was too late. The rumbling grew louder, and the footstomps (Rodney couldn't call them foot-steps) grew faster, as the creature lumbered toward them.

"Fuck the equipment -- run!" John yelled, making Rodney drop the box of equipment and get the hell out of its way. A sound idea, even if Rodney did hate to lose important technology. He'd hate to lose himself even more. Besides, it would be hard to keep up with Ford and Teyla, otherwise. They all ran towards the 'Gate.

Rodney didn't want to think about the logistics of it all, how a creature who shouldn't exist, and certainly shouldn't be able to walk, much less hold its head up was rapidly gaining on them, shaking the ground near them.

"We're not going to make it!" Rodney yelled, running right into one of the original marshmallow people they'd seen through the MALP.

"Sorry, sorry," he panted, pulling it up as best he could, but not really sticking around to make sure it was okay. It was marshmallow. He guessed it would bounce back well enough.

"Shut up and run, Rodney," John said as the creature ambled towards him. It didn't seem angry, just incredibly eager to catch up. It was no wonder. Major Sheppard had this bizarre appeal with just about anyone, including Rodney, who so far had done a good job of cloaking it in arguments and bad attitude.

Ignoring the rest of them - thank God - it lifted John into the air like a baby with a rattle.

"Friend?" That was fine by Rodney; let the damn thing be John's friend. Rodney would just stay down here on the ground, thank you very much.

"Hmm," John got out, before the creature plopped down onto the ground, scattering Rodney, Ford, and Teyla. Luckily, the ground was fairly springy, too.

"Aw, damn it," Ford yelled, as they all got up and dusted themselves off.

"Friend!" It repeated. Clearly the creature was no intellectual. If it had, it would have gone for Rodney.

It petted the Major on the head, lovingly. Rodney almost expected it to rename him 'George'. "Friend!" it rumbled again, gleefully.

"Ah," John sounded like he was close to vomiting, which Rodney could certianly understand. Even an accomplished pilot would be put off being lifted into the air by a gigantic advertising prop. Just ask Homer Simpson.

"Friend?" "Puffy" asked, modulating it's voice so their eardrums didn't burst. It was still plenty loud.

"Sure," John said, putting on his best "team leader' voice, despite everyone's laughing. "My name's John."

"Friend!" The creature crowed, grinning widely. It made that stupid Wal-Mart Smiley-Face look like a funeral director. "Friend John!"

Danger or no, Rodney just had to get out his camera. He was going to have blackmail material for weeks off of this. The part of his brain that wasn't thinking "Please don't let it step on me" was already plotting how he could get John to pay for his silence.

"Are you all right, sir?" Ford said, doing his best not to laugh out loud.

"Made a new friend, Major?" Rodney queried, after the giant put John down - gently, he was relieved to see. John just glared at him, as fiercely as a man covered in sticky white goo could do. Rodney made a note to see if Zadenko - Zalenka - and the rest of the science crew could come up with a recipe for Fluffernutter.

John's expression lightened then, a malicious grin breaking out as he looked at something over Rodney's shoulder. Oh, shit. Now it was Rodney who was in trouble. They were coming for him, he just knew it, in all their bright colored glory, rows of pink and purple and blue. The avian population of this highly unliely planet. Teyla had never mentioned them, either.

Almost as tall as Rodney, they chirped and beeped and tweeted and -- he had to say it -- _peeped_ all around him, flying in direct opposition to their almost vestigial wings. How they could see with those beady brown dots for eyes, or fly, Rodney didn't know.

They rubbed themselves against Rodney, leaving trails of sparkly sugar on him. It was a good thing they seemed to like him, Rodney thought. Because if they'd know about his murderous past -- some really good pot, some leftover Easter candy (he'd spared the chocolate rabbits for future eating), scientific curiosity, and a microwave -- they might not be so friendly.

It could quite possibly cure his sweet tooth - but probably not.


End file.
